Star Trek: TOS Blow Back
by murphycat
Summary: When two former shipmates of Ambassador Spock's, and their ships, go missing, it's up to the Vulcan to try find out where they are and what happened. Along the way, old villains return and past relationships and events come back upon all of them with a vengeance. Revised & re-edited.
1. Chapter 1

***BLOW BACK: Chapter 1 **

Captain James T. Kirk had been lost, presumed dead, for seven years, and during that time Spock had assumed the mantle of a full ambassador from Vulcan in service to the Federation of Planets.

Spock still grieved Kirk's death, borne as an ancient penitent might, with ashes and lashes, all internal, of course. To the universe, his pain was never visible; Spock had moved on, as had everyone else who had served under or loved Kirk. The venerated ambassador knew that his was a wound, which would never heal, a chronic ache that at best could be managed but never fully subdued, not even by a Vulcan.

He had cut himself off from his other shipmates, even Dr. McCoy. To be near them, to reminisce about their adventures and catch up on what was happening in each other's lives, children, marriages, ex-marriages, and new adventures were simply more than Spock cared to hear. Without Kirk, his blood brother, it all seemed empty and trivial. He drifted away from his nearest and dearest, although he couldn't acknowledge it without bringing down his logical citadel of emotional cards with which he had erected to protect himself.

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Pharagos was a class M planet where Ambassador Spock and his contingent were closing their dialogue with two combatant worlds in an inhabited planetary system of five, in an attempt to establish safe and regulated shipping lanes between the planets and throughout the system without managing to kill off every pilot that could fly a spaceship.

Frankly, Spock was weary-and leery-of it. It was what his old friend Jim Kirk might call, "a milk run," and, as such, easy assignments had a way of becoming dangerous and volatile perhaps for the reason that when safety seemed assumed, people tended to allow their guards to drop, giving instability a venue into the larger undertaking.

As usual from his outward appearance, Ambassador Spock's demeanor was calm and tranquil.

After ten days of mediations, mitigations, compromises, and refereeing, he was tired and actually looking forward to returning to Vulcan for a respite from the emotional chaos that surrounded him constantly. He had entered a type of grotto or apse, which allowed him to meditate and settle himself before boarding the _T'Pol_ for his return trip. After a time, Spock arose, and headed toward the section of the spaceport where he would rendezvous with the rest of his delegation.

"Ambassador Spock," S'Rex his young Vulcan personal assistant, appeared as if suddenly beamed there by his side as he exited the quiet corridor into the bustle of the common area.

"Ambassador, there is an Admiral Janeway urgently requesting that you return his communique at Haumea Station. The admiral says it is of utmost importance." The young Vulcan's skin was flushed darker green with his not so concealed emotion.

"Very well, S'Rex proceed to our ship and determine what has the good admiral so agitated?"

Milk run, Spock thought. Always trouble.

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Spock found a secure comm unit inside _T'Pol_, and within seconds, was staring into the craggy, blue-eyed face of Admiral Richard Janeway.

"Ambassador Spock, many thanks for getting back with me so quickly." Janeway's eyes were direct and his attitude was straightforward, and he wasted no time getting to the point, "We have a two Starfleet ships missing. One, a medical ship, the _USS Comfort _is a state of the art hospital ship that was dispatched from Starbase 19, two standard days ago, to rendezvous near the Firth Nebula with the _USS_ _Blue Ridge_, a crew and supply ship returning from 309.890, a terraforming planet and its station near the Romulan Neutral Zone. The _Blue Ridge_ is assumed missing in action as well."

"According to _Blue Ridge's_ captain, two days into her return trip, there was an outbreak of an unfamiliar virus with high casualties. That's all we are able to gather from her garbled communique; what little we received was lost or blocked 198 seconds into transmission. With the _Saratoga _at the apex of her Neutral Zone patrol_, _there was no ship within 6.2 standard days of accompanying the _Comfort, _as you know Starbase 19 is the closest monitoring station to the neutral zone. The _Comfort _was not scheduled to be at the base, but due to an unexpected environmental problem at Starbase 18, her schedule was amended and she was at 19 when the distress call came in.

"_As_ time is obviously of the essence, she was dispatched to set up quarantine and determine what it was, how the virus was transmitted and then establish a treatment protocol or quarantine. The hospital ship should have arrived at the _Blue Ridge's_ last known coordinates ten hours ago, and that's when all communication was lost with both ships.

_"Comfort _reported them having the _Blue Ridge_ on long range sensors; no communication was established.

"The _T'Pol_ is the closest Federation ship we have to their last known position. We need information about what's going on—yesterday. From your present location, you should be able to reach their last known coordinates in 12 hours at top warp speed. We need to find those ships and to prevent a widespread panic—or widespread contagion—and find out if it's a natural illness or a possible biological weapon deployed by the Romulan Empire. I realize that may sound a bit paranoid, but being so close to the neutral zone, it is a scenario that needs considering. Contact must be established with all due haste, if God forbid, it is a biological weapon... I trust I am being clear, Ambassador?"

Spock's face was impassive. "You are Admiral. We will be getting underway within the hour and you will be getting a situation report. I trust, sir, if _you_ receive more pertinent information that it will be relayed to our ship, as soon as possible. It seems quite suspect that an illness could act so quickly that communication was terminated by the captain of the _Blue Ridge _while it was still being transmitted_." _

Especially since most Star Fleet ships had biological decontamination protocols built into transporters as standard equipment, Spock thought.

"Agreed, but that's exactly all we have, Ambassador."

Spock asked again, "What about the _Comfort_? Her last report was simply picking up the supply ship on her long range sensors?"

Janeway steepled his hands in front of him and his face became broodingly dark.

"Yes. The captain of the _Comfort _reported picking up the _Blue Ridge_ on long range sensors and then nothing, no visual confirmation. Not another single bit of data from her."

Janeway's blue eyes looked haunted, as he continued, "I know this is irrelevant, and I would be just as alarmed no matter what ship was out there, but," the admiral looked down at his hands as they wrestled together on his desk, "My son is a science officer on the hospital ship. I know his captain and if there was any way to get a message through or a way out, she would have found it by now."

Spock asked, "May I ask who are the captains of the ships, sir."

Janeway looked as if he could burn a hole through Spock with those dark blue eyes. An ironic and poignant expression fought for control of the weathered face of the admiral.

He said, "The _Ridge_ is under the command of Captain Kevin Riley. Both captains were crewmates of yours on the _Enterprise_, under Captain Kirk. I am sorry, Ambassador. I understand that this could only make it more difficult for you."

Would it, Janeway thought to himself? Spock left the service after Kirk's death, so the admiral felt he had assumed a great deal, especially about a Vulcan.

Spock's face was stoical, "Yes, I am familiar with him. He is a fine officer and I don't believe he would exaggerate the severity of his crew's condition. And the other ship?"

"The _Comfort _is under the command of Captain Christine Chapel, one of the best Emergency Ops officers that I ever served with, not to mention a great doctor—xenobiology is her specialty, which should help tremendously."

Before Spock could wrap his mind around the admiral's words, Janeway leaned forward as if he wanted to touch the Vulcan, and in an impassioned voice he said, "Spock, before you were an ambassador, you were a hellava Starfleet officer and captain. From this point on, you are to assume command of the _T'Pol, _with the approval of the Vulcan High Counsel_. _ Your orders are to find them, Captain Spock. Contain whatever this unspecified illness is, and bring back those ships and their crews.

"Ambassador, the Federation needs you. I need you. "

Physical pain seemed to ripple across Admiral Janeway's face. "If the outbreak **is** a biological weapon, do you duty, Captain, **and do what you must to protect the Federation**."

The admiral took a deep breath and said, "Godspeed and good hunting. Janeway out."

The screen flashed back to the Federation emblem.

Across Spock's mind flashed the faces of two people connected to the ship that had changed his life, and to the man whose ship and crew meant everything to him. A man he once knew and was indebted to for his life in many ways.

Spock almost smiled as he leaned his head forward to rest in his palms to gather his thoughts. The universe is truly a strange and remarkable place, he thought, more than logic could explain. Riley and Christine.

_Christine._ The last time he had seen her was at Jim's memorial. It had taken both of them to get

Leonard McCoy back to his home. She volunteered to stay the evening in case Leonard needed her. All Spock could do was give monosyllabic answers when she asked him a question; feeling McCoy's and his own loss had been almost more than he could bear. He needed to get away from McCoy, for a while anyway. Spock had cleared the door of McCoy's large white house when she softly called his name.

Spock stopped on the porch and turned back to face her. It was softly raining and the air had turned cool for Georgia.

Pushing the screen door open, she stepped out onto the porch, meeting him in the semi-dark. The lamps from inside the house were the only illumination. Her usually neat hair had wispy pieces falling around her face and she looked as tired and heartsick as he felt.

Christine's glacial blue eyes were filling with tears. Looking into his dark eyes, which not many people would do these days for fear of what they might see there, she whispered, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry he's gone, and I'm so sorry for your loss."

She rested her hand on his left shoulder, and he did not push her away.

"Take care of yourself, Spock. Please," she barely whispered, leaning close enough for him to smell her light perfume.

At that moment all he wanted was to fall into her arms and sob until he was spent, as he used to do with his mother when he was very, very young, and she would make it all better. But Christine was not his mother, and it would never be made "better."

He reached up and gently wiped away a tear that was running down her left cheek. Christine thought he still looked shell shocked, and she was worried.

"Your face is wet, Miss Chapel."

The not so softly veiled reference did not nostalgically take them back to their time on the _Enterprise. _If anything, it made him feel more loss—more regretful about so many things. Her skin was smooth and cool on his hand. If through nothing else, their service aboard Enterprise, under Jim Kirk, would bind them longer than they would live. Jim Kirk's Enterprise would be the stuff of legend.

She had smiled gently, and said, "I think it will be wet for quite a while yet."

"Perhaps that is as it should be, Christine."

He held the back of his hand against her cool skin. Christine's emotions were strong, but not overwhelming. Spock realized that he had always underestimated her, to his detriment.

Dropping his hand and lastly his eyes from her face, Spock turned and left in the night, seven years ago. Later, early in the morning hours, he found a ship to take him back to search where Captain Jim Kirk had been lost.


	2. Chapter 2

BLOW BACK: CHAPTER 2

"Fire all port side phasers! Epsilon Delta spread!" Captain Chapel yelled as the Romulan war bird continued to pound away at the smaller supply ship that _USS Comfort_ was trying to protect.

"Captain," Lt. Monroe, at communications, announced, "Emergency transmission from the _Blue Ridge_!"

"On screen," Chapel said.

Her bottom lip hurt like hell where several of her teeth had penetrated it from the inside, and now it had swelled to twice its normal size.

The face of Kevin Riley filled the bridge screen, fragments of "O Kathleen, "still ran through her head, as she saw his perpetually youthful face. Right now he had a bloody lacerated forehead and sparks were flying from various stations and terminals visible on his bridge.

"Captain Chapel, I am giving the order to abandon ship. Our warp core is off-line, life support is inoperable, and we have a hull breach you could fly a shuttle through on the lowest deck—and no way to plug it!"

He stopped to converse with an ensign on his left.

"Now I'm told our medical officer and engineer have joined the previous twenty-eight dead of our crew of sixty. We have more than enough pods to escape the ship," he said with that charming boyish smile of his replaced with a grimace, "But now outrunning that war bird in them is another matter entirely."

She knew his idea was a last ditch effort to save his crew. The loss of his ship was a given.

Christine shot back curtly, "Riley, if you abandon ship in those pods, that son-of-a-bitch is going to pick you all off like shooting plastic pigeons at a carnival game and you know it."

"Captain ChapeI, I'm not askin' you to drop your shields to take us aboard. That's suicide! I mean I know you're crazy about me, woman, but I won't have you sacrifice your ship."

Smart ass til the end.

"Well, believe it or not I might not have to. I have a few tricks up my sleeve, too, you Irish fool."

The tall, confident woman smiled now, pretending like he was, that his ship was not going to be destroyed.

"Go ahead and get your crew to the pods but try to hold out for a few minutes longer. Trust me, Chapel out!"

A ferocious hit on the starboard side of the _Blue Ridge_, blew debris all over Riley and his few remaining bridge crew. None seemed to be seriously hurt, but all were knocked off their feet.

"_Trust me_, she says," Riley mumbled, rolling his eyes.

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"Incoming!" Jackson said, loudly.

"Alpha, Alpha, Delta pattern, Lt."

A detonation off the port side threw the standing bridge crew to the floor or to their knees. Captain Chapel fell forward, hitting her cheek sharply on the helm console.

"Keep us between that war bird and the _Blue Ridge, _no matter what!" Christine called to her helmsman, Anna Jackson.

"No matter what that bastard tries, don't let him get them with another direct hit or they're space debris. Got it? Head us, bow in, toward him."

"Understood, ma'am." Jackson's eyes were red and bleary from heat and lack of rest, but she wasn't called "Stonewall," for nothing.

The bridge corpsman offered to tend to Chapel's wound, but she shrugged him off, after taking a gauze pad to daub the blood away.

"Monroe, open a channel to the _Blue Ridge _and use one of the newest, unbroken codes." Chapel barked at her communications officer.

"Yes, ma'am. Frequency open." Monroe was good _and_ fast.

"Where's the visual?" Chapel asked. She was out of her chair and between the rail and the communications station.

"They've suffered too much damage, Captain. An audio is the best I can do, never mind, Captain, got it!"

"Give me a split screen and highlight the positions of both ships. Keep an especially sharp eye on the Romulan ship," she ordered her helmsman.

The screen instantly presented both ships.

"Weapons, lock a plasma torpedo onto anything on that war bird that reads as anti-matter."

Sanchez swallowed, "Captain, ma'am. You know that will—"

His captain cut him off sharply, "I know exactly what it will do, Lt., now prepare to lock onto that ship."

Sanchez sneaked a look at Jackson, seated next to him, and gave her a wide-eyed, w.t.f., look.

"Stonewall" refused to acknowledge him; she had experienced her captain's wrath when her orders were questioned. The captain was rarely wrong.

"Jackson?"

"Ready, Captain."

Lt. Monroe interrupted, "Captain Chapel, I have _Blue Ridge_'s captain on audio only now."

Chapel hit a switch on the arm of her command chair as she said down heavily, "Kevin, I want you to load your crew into the pods and launch in 60 seconds."

"Christine, I thought we decided this was a bad idea."

"And I told you trust me. Now you've got 45 seconds. Go!"

"Monroe, put me through to Engineering."

"Standing by, ma'am."

A terrible shuddering shook the _Comfort_, lights out, but the dimmer emergency lights flickered on, dispelling the darkness.

"Engineering, report."

"Warp drive is offline. We have two hull breaches which we're attempting to seal as we speak. Shields are at 70%."

"Lt. Commander Crabtree, I trust we still have impulse engines?" Chapel asked.

"We do, but I don't have any idea how much longer. One of our nacelles is completely blown to hell-."

"Impulse is all I need, Crab. Now standby and get ready to move!"

"Pods are launching from the _Blue Ridge_, Captain!" Anders exclaimed.

Turning to Anders, "Drop aft shields only and begin mass beaming of all pods directly into shuttle bay 2, then shields up!

A direct hit from the Romulan ship rattled Chapel's teeth.

"All life pods are aboard, Captain, and shields are holding at 48% now," Anders exclaimed. "Full quarantine initiated, ma'am."

"Good job, Mr. Anders."

Riley's ship exploded and debris flew in every direction.

Grabbing the arms of her chair, Christine Chapel yelled to her EO, "Crabtree, get us the hell out of here! Reverse thrust, full impulse!"

Another direct hit to _Comfor_t.

Anders said, "Shields now down to 30%, ma'am.

"Fire torpedo! Now, rip through that ship with every phaser we've got."

"Yes, ma'am!" Sanchez grinned and his hands skimmed over the control panel.

The Romulan war bird shuddered and twisted as the power of the torpedo warped its components into unrecognizable melting debris, ending in an explosion that rippled out like waves on pond after a huge rock had dropped into the center.

The forward edge of the explosion's expansion wave was heading toward the _Comfort_ at an incredible speed.

"Mr. Janeway, please tell me we're traveling faster than that wave," Captain Chapel addressed her young science officer.

"Captain Chapel, I, um, we're not going to get out of blast radius. It will reach us 4.6 seconds before we are out of range." Janeway's face was pale.

Chapel didn't hesitate. "Helm, turn us head on into the wave. All power to forward shields, even life support."

Hitting the button on her chair again, "Crabtree, turn the forward deflector array into a shield and hold that thing off of us—all we need is a few seconds. Crabtree!"

"Captain, this is Ensign Hart, Chief Crabtree is dead, ma'am."

Christine ground her jaw, "Then get **someone** on that god-damned deflector! Now!"

"Monroe, give me a visual on that concussive wave."

"Aye."

The forward screen came to life with horrible clarity. Chapel turned off the comm to Engineering, not waiting for a response to her last order. She didn't think she'd need one now.


End file.
